



























* 





French’s International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and 
the United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Anthors 


No. 236. 


ROOMS TO LET 


BT 

M. N. BEEBE 


COTYRIGHT, 1912, BY SaMUEL FbBNOII 


P^OTICE.»Tlie Proleaaional aetinS riShta of fliia plaF mrm re- 
aerved by the pobliaher, and pemaiaaion for anoh perform* 
anoea muat be obtained before performaneea are ^iven. Tbia 
notice doea not apply to amatenra» who may perform the play 
without permiasion. All profeaaional nnauthorir.ed pro* 
dnetiona will be proaaented to the full extent of the law* ^ 


PRICE, 30 CENTS. 


Loni>on 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Strmjt 
STRAND 


New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH v 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 


BILLETED. 


A comedy in 3 acts, by F. Tennison ^esse and H. Harwood. 4 males, 
5 females. One easy interior scene. A charming comedy, constructed 
with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever lines. Margaret Anglin’s 
big success. Amateurs will find this comedy easy to produce and popular 
with all audiences. Price, 60 Cents. 

NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. 

A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. Cos- 
tumes, modern. Two interior scenes.- Plays 2 hours. 

Is it possible to tell the absolute truth — even for twenty-fqur hours? It is — 
at least Bob Bennett, the hero of “Nothing But the Truth,” accomplished the 
f?at. The bet he made with his business partners, and the trouble he got into— 
with his partners, his friends, and his fiancee — this is the subject of William 
Collier’s tremendous comedy hit. “Nothing But the Truth” can be whole-heartedly 
recommended as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that 
this country can boast. Price, 60 Cents. 

IN WALKED JIMMY. 

A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, 2 females (although 
any number of males and females may be used as clerks, etc.) Two 
interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2^ hours. • The thing into 
which Jimmy walked was a broken-down shoe factory, when the clerks 
had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in serious contemplation 
of suicide. , -- 

Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious figure 
had it not‘ been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and his everlasting 
humanness. He put the shoe business on its feet, won the heart of the girl 
clerk, saved her erring brother from jail, escaped that place as a permanent 
boarding house himself, and foiled the villain. 

Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just a dash of 
excitement and more than a little- bit of true philosophy make “In Walked Jimmy” 
one of the most delightful of playsi Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the 
teligiop of happiness and the religion of helpfulness, and he so permeates the 
atmosphere with his “religion” that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, 
goad cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. Ther'-. is not a dull moment 
in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents. 

MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. 

An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author of 
the “Martha” stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. Cos- 
tumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

It is altogether a gentle thing, this play. It is full of quaint humor, old- 
fashioned, homely sentiment, the kind that people who see the play will recall 
and chuckle over tomorrow and the next day. 

Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for stage service, 
and in doing this has selected from her novel the most telling incidents, infgctio.us 
comedy and homely sentiment for the play, and the result is thoroughly delightful. 

Price, 60 Gents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 


ROOMS TO LET 


»T 

M. N. BEEBE 


Copyright, 1912, by Samuel French 


•101 ICE.— The Professional acting rights of this play are reserved by 
the publisher, and permission for such performances must be ob- 
tained before performances are given. This notice does not apply 
to amateurs, who may perform the play without permission. All 
professional unauthorized productions will be prosecuted to the 
full extent of the law. 


PRICE, 30 CENTS. 


New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th STREET 

P 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 


.1 




To 



ROOMS TO LET 


Mrs. Smythe 


A talkative landlady 

. . . .Just graduated from College 


Dick Rush 
Tom Wareek 


^^LEs } Students at the Summer School 


Betty’s Aunt 

.The POSTMAK 


Matilda Judd 
Jerry 


Place. — Sitting room of Tom and Dick’s suite of 
Mrs. Smythes. Should have the appearance of a 
ready furnished room awaiting new occupants: con- 
tains a desk, chairs, couch, etc; window at rear center 
of room covered hy heavy, long curtain, several hooks, 
pair of hoxing-gloves, tennis racquets and mandolin 
scattered about on desk. 

Time. — Several days after closing of college and 
just before opening of the summer school. Any 
college town. 

Entrances at right front of stage, rear right of 
stage and rear left leading to bedroom. 




ROOMS TO LET 


{At rise Mrs. Smythe with feather duster is brush'* 
ing large placard EOOMS TO LET.) 

Mrs. Smythe. Those two boys certainly do hate 
to leave and goodness knows I hate to have ’em go, 
hut college has been closed a week now and I can’t 
take any more chances on letting these rooms foi: the 
Summer School, {puts sign in window) They will 
he going to-night sure and if anybody hires the place 
I can clean these things out while the boys are at 
supper, {dusts desTc and leaves duster on top) It 
will be a long time before I get two such roomers as 
Mr. Dick and Mr. Tom again. Four years, and al- 
ways paid right on the dot — to say nothing of what I 
made during vacations letting their rooms to tran- 
sients. Well all good things have to come to an end 
I suppose, {exit right rear) 

{Enter Dick at right front, dressed in white flannel 
suit, sits down at desk.) 

Dick. Gee, but I hate to say good-bye to this old 
joint. A fellow gets mighty attached to a place in 
four years and these old walls have sheltered a good 
m^ny joys for me and not many sorrows, I’ll have to 
admit. {picks up mandolin) I’ll miss those 
amorous ditties Old Tom tears from your ribs too — • 
Wonder where the loafer is? We won’t have time 
3 


4 


ROOMS TO LET 


for that last set of tennis if he don^t hustle along 
here. 

{Enter Tom from hedroom.) 

Tom. Who’s a loafer you mooning Duffer? Cut 
out those slumber visions, and come along so I can 
beat you a love set. 

Dick. F11 bet you the frozen dainties it’s the 
other way round. Just wait till I bathe my fevered 
brow. {Exit Dick to hedroom.) 

Tom. {sits on desTc) It’s like pulling teeth to tear 
myself away from this roost but I must go to-night — 
who would have thought time would go so fast, but 
the next six weeks can’t go fast enough for me. 
{pichs up hooJc and loolcs into it) I’m afraid I could 
never have stuck it out if it hadn’t been for Her, and 
Dick’s boosts besides. I suppose some Freshman will 
have these rooms next year. I was green enough 
when I first landed. 

Dick, {from doorivay) Verdant is the word my 
lad — the tender shoots of spring time had nothing on 
you, but you have ripened fast, {shakes head) very 
fast, and a green stick makes good timber. 

Tom. Well you helped the ripening process along 
old man — and this is our last day. . I owe you a lot of 
thanks for that. 

Dick. Cut that nonsense instead of that wicked 
serve you always put over the net and come along, or 
we won’t get a court, {hoth pick up Racquets) 

{Enter Mrs. Smythe right front.) 

Mrs. Smythe. Jollyin’ each other as usual I see. 
How you two fellows ever found time to study or do 
any work beats me. I believe they let you through on 
your looks Mr. Tom and Mr. Dick, to get rid of his 
jokes. If I had your gift of gab Mr. Dick, I wouldn’t 
be taking in roomers. My first husband used to 
say 


ROOMS TO LET & 

Tom. {interrupting) WonT you be sorry to see us 
go, Mrs. Smythe. 

Mrs. Smythe. It almost makes me cry to think 
of it; only yesterday that cat Mary Jones across the 
street was in here to sympathize with me she said, 
hut she knows right well she never got over being 
jealous because you took my rooms instead of hers 
and she only giving 4 towels a week to a room and 
furnishing just common laundry soap — my first hus- 
band alwaA^s said 

Dick. WeTl have to hustle along Tommy; I sup- 
pose you will want to rent this place for the summer 
school Mrs. Smythe, so it will be all right to show the 
rooms if anyone drops in — all of our things have gone 
except what’s here {on desk) and it will only take 
a few minutes to get them together. We have simply 
got to leave to-night. 

Tom. It will be an afternoon’s job to beat the 
conceit out of this would be tennis crack so we won’t 
be around to scare away any prospective tenants. 

{Exit Tom and Dick, front.) 

Mrs. Smythe. {hands on hips) Them two surely 
is good boys and it will be a mighty lucky girl that 
gets either of them. Mister Dick now, he treats 
them all alike and had dozens of pretty girls’ pictures 
stuck all around in his freshman year but Mr. Tom 
never takes any notice of the girls that are always 
trying to flirt with him. I was lucky to keep them 
the whole four years of their course, {hell rings) 
There’s that bell, {takes off apron and throws on 
desk) I hope it ain’t a couple of old maids, {goes to 
front) Show them right up Bridget. 

{Enter Betty and Madge dressed in light summet 
gowns and large hats.) 

Betty. 0 what a love of a room — we can make a. 
happy home of this in no time. 


6 


ROOMS TO LET 


Madge, {throwing herself into a chair) Alaba 
ma, here we rest. 

Mrs. Smythe. The rooms are open to yonr in- 
spection young ladies. 

Betty. Wliat price do you ask for them ? 

Mrs. Smythe. First you must understand that I 
am very particular indeed — as to the occupants of 
my rooms. I have only the most cultured and refined 
young men during the college year and the reputation 
of my house is such that it is only at the urgent 
request of the college authorities that I open it at all 
to a limited number of summer , students. It is only 
since the death of my late husband Mr. Smythe 
{spelled with the y and the e you know) that I have 
consented to take in roomers. 

Madge. I guess we can furnish satisfactory 
references. 

Mrs. Smythe. The appearance and bearing of 
you both is very much in your favor. 

Betty. Thank you, now what about the terms of 
rental. 

Mrs. Smythe. I would ask seven dollars per 
week for the suite payable one week in advance and 
this includes more privileges than most people are 
willing to allow for so reasonable an amount of 
money. Students are apt to be careless in leaving the 
gas burning and wasteful of the water — I also furnish 
an extra latch key and the front piazza is at your dis- 
posal. Then too I am obliged to do a great deal of 
running up and do'wn stairs which is quite tiresome — 
in fact my first husband used to say — {pauses) Do 
you know the young men who have had these rooms 
for four years always change the subject when I men- 
tion my first husband — I suppose it is out of respect 
for my loss; some people can not bear to mention 
their departed ones and this shows what perfect 
gentlemen the young men are; but as I was saying. 


ROOMS TO LET 


7 

my first husband used to say that running up and 
down stairs so much scattered my brains to my heels, 
but I told him that was a good place to carry them 
for my heels earned my living and his too. My first 
husband was quite shiftless. 

Betty. I guess we can pay seven dollars all right. 
Can we move in right away? 

Madge. But your Aunt Matilda hasn’t seen the 
rooms yet, Betty. 

Betty. Oh dear, I nearly forgot Auntie? I’ll go 
and bring her around and 'you can stay here Madge. 

Madge. Will that be all right Mrs. Smythe? 

Mrs. Smythe. That will be fine my dear and then 
we can get acquainted — I always make it a point to 
know m}^ roomers personally ; the neighbors all say I 
do make things so homelike that nobody wants to 
leave. The young men who have these rooms were 
always going to my cooky jar after the theatre. 

Betty. I’ll go and hunt up Auntie — she was read' 
ing the names on the Memorial Statue and I suppose 
she is there yet. 

Madge. And I will wait for you here only don’t he 
gone too long. 

{Exit Betty.) 

Mrs. Smythe. Do sit down my dear and he com- 
fortable — this is always such a cool room in summer 
and catches the breezes from every side. Good 
ventilation is one of the most important points about 
a room as well the precautions for escape in case of 
fire which are very adequate here. You are in the 
Summer School of course ? 

Madge. I guess so, if we can ever get settled. 
Betty’s aunt is so particular about being around to 
chaperone us and she won’t let a man look at Betty 
if she can help it. 

Mrs. SjiIYThe. I don’t generally take more than 


8 


ROOMS TO LET 


two people for one suite and besides these old maids 
are so fussy — they always want something extra. 

Madge. 0 she won’t room with us, but she wants 
to be near where she can keep her eye on Betty — 
Betty is a terrible flirt, but she can’t help it. 

Mrs. Smythe. Most young ladies are, nowadays, 
especially in a college town they need a chaperone; 
now when I was a girl 

Madge. But that isn’t the reason Miss Judd is 
here. She first came on a visit one autumn, fifteen 
years ago and fell in love with a young man who 
played on the football team. He told her that he 
would never rest till he had made his fortune and 
then he would come to her at the summer school so 
she is still waiting and takes the same room every 
year so he would know where to find her. Poor old 
soul, I don’t suppose she ever had another chance. 

Mrs. Smythe. How perfectly romantic. My first 
husband tried to tell me a about the same thing but 
I told him if he ever lost sight of me I’d be harder 
to find than the fortune. 

Madge. I think we shall be very comfortable here. 

Mrs. Smythe. Ho doubt of it my dear, I always 
make things so attractive, {jumps up) Land Sakes, 
I near forgot those cookies in the oven, {exit) 

Madge. These are pretty rooms but of course they 
are a little bare, {examines hooks on table) Hum 
mostly on law, one of the late residents of this 
domicile must have been of a serious turn of mind ; 
{picks up boxing gloves) and the other somewhat 
athletic — ^here are Brownings Poems though so I’m 
done for till Betty comes. 

{Takes seat in chair so back is partly turned from 
right front entrance.) 

{Enter Dick.) 

Dick. I thought we would fool around till those 


ROOMS TO LET 


9 


courts were all taken, {stops on seeing Madge) 
Hello — Gee, what a stunning profile — (aside) I sup- 
pose our energetic landlady has let these rooms 
already, but my rent is paid until sundown any way 
so I have a right here too. (puts racquet on desk) 
Guess ni try a little bluff and see if I can’t make 
myself interesting, (takes hook from desk, coughs) 
Beg pardon ma’am — sorry to disturb you but I have 
here a work that is of great interest to all who are 
engaged in the pursuit of knowledge and which never 
fails to prove itself many times its value. 

Madge. I don’t think 

Hick. Just a minute madam, so great has been the 
demand for this book that it is with the greatest 
difficulty that the agents are supplied with a sufficient 
stock to fill the orders which pour in from every side. 
I have paid my way through college by its sale. 

Madge. Then you won’t have any trouble selling 
them so I don’t believe I’ll take one. 

Hick. This is an opportunity, madam, which if 
you neglect I am positive you will never cease to 
regret. The fund of information contained herein is 
inexhaustible and pertains toward a clearer knowl- 
edge of lost arts as well as the most recent literature. 

Madge, (rising) You have learned your little 
story all right so I’ll take the book : how much is it ? 

Hick. The very reasonable sum of fifty cents, 
ma’am. 

Madge. How in the world do they can up so much 
information for such a small price? 

Hick. They are. printed by the thousands which 
of course lessens the cost of production, (exchanges 
hook for Madge’s coin) 

Madge. I should be well fortified with knowledge 
now. Good day, sir. (puts hook on desk without 
looking at it and resumes reading of poems) 

Hick, (in door way. Aside) Well, I’ve got to 


10 


mOOMS TO LET 


beat it now, what a chump I was to shoot all my 
ammunition at once. There’s no excuse to linger 
longer. 

{Exit Dick. Madge picks up hook.) 

Madge. Now that he has gone I’ll examine this 
treasure ; well of all things I certainly am stung this 
time. This is nothing in the world but a Greek 
Grammar — I donT believe book agents generally wear 
white flannel suits either. I mustn’t tell Betty or I 
would never hear the last of this, {turns pages and 
photograph drops on floor; picks it up) What on 
earth is this? Betty’s picture in this book — that 
fellow wasn’t a book agent or that tennis racquet 
wasn’t there when I came in. Things are getting 
interesting but I’ll just keep mum and see what I can 
find out. {puts picture inside waist and resumes 

{Enter Tom at right rear, who crosses room to bed- 
room without noticing Madge.) 

Madge. Well I declare, this place seems to be sort 
of a public highway. I don’t know whether to run 
or wait for reinforcements. Betty and her aunt ought 
to be here soon. If that fellow is a sneak thief he 
can walk off with everything in sight. Father was a 
soldier though so I’ll stand my ground any way and 
see if I can’t work as good a bluff as that fake book 
agent did on me. {puts hat under desk, ties on Mes. 
Smythe’s apron and makes cap out of handkerchief; 
picks up duster and starts dusting — ) 

• {Enter Tom from bedroom.) 

Tom. Hello, look who’s here. Well you are a great 
improvement over Bridget, little one. {chucks her 
under chin) 

Madge. Sir, I’ll be after tellin’ the missus. 

Tom. Sure thing, call her up — and then I can call 


ROOMS TO LET 


11 


her down for not finding yon a conple of years ago 
instead of keeping that old musty mop shaker of a 
Bridget for so long. 

Madge. I just come this marnin’, sir. 

Tom. Now isnT that a shame, just as I am leaving, 
too. 

Madge. And are ye not going to take the rooms? 

Tom. Why, you budding little - Shamrock, Fve 
hung out around this joint four years already. 

Madge. Sure and I thought you was lookin’ for 
rooms. I must go and help the missus. 

Tom. (stands to one side) Wait a minute. Win- 
some, just let me get the perspective on that profile. 
(tilts her chin) 

Madge. Away with yer blarney — (shoves duster 
in Tom’s face and exits) 

Tom. (sputtering) Not so slow either by Jove — 
Dick would tell her the story of his life. Too bad we 
couldn’t get a court to play on, it’s a great afternoon 
for a game and I wanted to trim Dick once more. 
(puts racquet under deslc and pulls out Madge’s hat) 
What the deuce is this? Fluffy Ruffles’ best bonnet. 
Some class to our little dust lady, (turns hat over) 
But — Holy Smokes, servant girls don’t generally buy 
their lids at Princes. Guess I’ll go down and inter- 
view the missus ” and see if she can throw some 
light on the subject, (puts hat on desk) I’ll just 
leave this little flower garden to startle Dick, (exit 
Tom hy rear right — Enter Dick by front right) 

Dick, (picks up hat) Well, what sort of a dona- 
tion is this ? I’d have hard work to pack that with my 
luggage, (puts on hat) Wouldn’t I cut a swell 
figure as the leading lady in our frat ” show with a 
gown to match this top piece. There comes Tom, I’ll 
flash it on him sudden, (steps behind window cur- 
tain) 


(Enter Betty right front) 


12 


ROOMS TO LET 


Betty. Oh dear, all that walk for nothing, Anntie 
won^t come till she gets ready, sometimes I wish 
her old Gerald did go to war and get blown up. 
Wonder where Madge is. {notices bulging cur- 
tain) Ah Ha, hiding, my lady, all right keep still 
and ITl find you. {puts on boxing gloves and goes to 
curtain, strikes out) There you little wretch, take 
that. Dad call-s that a side swipe — Now here’s an 
upper cut to dodge. Why don’t you say something, 
you young Imp. {jabs with glove) That poke. must 
have landed — well, then, a left hook to your dimpled 
chin. Why, you stubborn child, get down on your 
knees and beg for mercy, take that and that and that. 
{punches rapidly. Dick steps from behind curtain) 

Dick, {stepping from behind curtain) For the 
love of Mike, cease — I’ll take the count. 

Betty, {startled) Oh, Oh, what have I done. 
{drops into chair) 

Dick. That’s all right, your love taps didn’t hurt 
any, but I was afraid you would spoil this horti- 
cultural exhibit here. 

Betty. What are you doing with Madge’s hat? 
No wonder you were hiding but you don’t look like a 
thief. 

Dick. See here young lady isn’t that going it 
pretty strong? I might ask you what you are doing 
with this pugilistic outfit. Can’t a fellow fondle a 
filmy creation that is wont to shield a beautiful brow 
without the supposition arising that he wants to 
pinch it. Not the brow, the hat I mean, you know. 

Betty. Oh, I see, I beg your pardon, but it was 
very unwise of Madge. That’s why she was willing 
to stay here, the sly little minx — Auntie would be 
terribly shocked if she knew Madge had a caller with- 
out a chaperone, though I can’t see anything out of 
the way about it. 

{Voice outside) Coming, Betty, coming. 


ROOMS TO LET 


13 


Betty. Good Heavens, there^s Auntie, she will 
have a fit if she sees me alone talking to a man. 
CanT yon be the plumber — or the ice man or some- 
thing? Oh, please do, please. 

Dick. What? Dressed in this rig? 

Betty. Never mind that. Auntie is near sighted, 
she will think they are overalls. Won’t you please? 

Dick, {ties colored Tiandhercliief around neck and 
rolls up sleeves) All right but no manual labor job 
for me — I’ll be the janitor. 

{Enter Aunt Matilda, right front — throws up 
hands.) 

Aunt Matilda. There I knew if I left you alone 
or out of my sight even for a minute you would find 
a man to flirt with somewhere. This is very im- 
proper, my dear. 

Betty, {demurely) The janitor has been fixing 
the window, Auntie. 

Dick. Beg pardon mum, ye see these here window 
casins’ gits all swelled up sometimes when we has so 
much wet weather, but I’m the boy that can fix ’em. 
Anything else Miss? 

Betty. No thank you. 

Dick, {hows) Good day, ladies. 

Betty. Now Auntie see how unjust you are. 

Aunt Matilda. It is all right this time my dear, 
but no wonder I was cross. J declare I am almost 
discouraged; poor Gerald, I was so sure he would be 
waiting for me this year — I have read every single 
name of the Spanish war veterans on that monument 
and his isn’t there so of course he didn’t die a hero’s 
death and must be still working for me. 

Betty. I am afraid he was fickle and forgot you 
long ago. Auntie. 

Aunt Matilda. My dear child, how can you say 
such things ? If you had only heard his promises. 


14 


ROOMS TO LET 


Betty. Well, you had better forget them and 
marry Deacon Perkins — he has been after you ever 
since his wife died. 

Aunt Matilda. I won^t say that I don’t admire 
the Deacon but I promised Gerald — and a Judd 
never breaks a promise. Besides Gerald had such 
beautiful curls. 

Betty. You need a rest Auntie, Pll bet Madge 
has found her way to the landlady’s cooky jar already, 
so I’m going down and follow her trail. {exit 
Betty) 

Aunt Matilda. I had no idea of getting so tired : 
that girl must be chaperoned every minute — I shall 
not let her out of my sight again till they are settled. 
But I must lie down a little while and rest. I’ll just 
go into the bedroom. 

{Exit Aunt Matilda — to hedroom.) 

{Enter Tom.) 

Tom. Might as well get these things together I 
suppose. Hat still here, guess Dick hasn’t showed up 
yet {holes in Orammar) that’s funny.” {turns 
pages and shalces hoolc, opens draioers in desk and 
scatters hooks about) 

{Enter Dick.) 

Dick. What the deuce are you doing, giving a 
parting caress to all these volumes? 

Tom. Looking fof something — that’s all. 

Dick. What is the treasure? 

Tom. a photograph. 

Dick. Photograph — Hum, not a feminine one. 

Tom. Well, yes. 

Dick, {drops into chair) So that’s the answer, old 
man, that’s the reason you never had any time or use 
for the fair damsels that admired your classic features 
and manly bearing. You certainly kent mum about 
it. 


ROOMS TO LET 


15 


Tom. Yes I have kept quiet Dick, because there 
may be nothing to tell — four years is a long time and 
I may be forgotten but I don’t believe it. 

Dick. Nor I either, old man, no girl could ever 
forget you. 

Tom. Well I’ll tell you my little story Dick, if 
you are interested. 

Dick. Anything concerning you Tom, always 
interests meu 

Tom. Thanks. You see most fellows are nearly 
through college by the time I started in ; when I left 
High School I thought I knew all there was to learn, 
got in with a fast crowd and traveled a pretty swift 
pace till I was twenty-one, when an uncle of mine 
died and left me a little money. Then I met the 
right girl and she put me on probation for four years. 

Dick. Who would ever have thought of you 
hitting the high places. 

Tom. That’s why I never told you before Dick — I 
haven’t drank' a drop or gambled a cent’s worth since. 
Those were her conditions — together with a college 
education. I wasn’t to see her or even correspond till 
I had made good. She said I was worth taking a 
chance on, hut I would have to keep my agreement. 
I’ve got six weeks longer to wait. 

Dick. She must he a peach, Tom. 

Tom. Sort of a queer romance, hut that is why 
you have always thought me a woman hater. 

Dick. Well, I suppose our fun is over now ; I’m 
going to knock around for the summer and start to 
work in the Fall. Then watch the money-grabbers 
tremble. You’ll start law right away, won’t you. 

Tom. Well I’ll make a bluff at it any way. 
(aside) Why don’t he notice the bonnet. 

(Aukt Matilda with sheet over her head rushes 
from "bedroom, past Tom and Dick, out front 
right.) 


16 


ROOMS TO LET 


Tom. Hamlets Ghost ! What in thunder was that 
apparition, (follows to entrance) 

Dick. It begins to look as if this joint had turned 
into a female seminary. 

Tom. Well who was the shrouded female and who 
belongs to this, (holds up hat) 

Dick. That expensive creation evidently belongs 
to a proud beauty whom I discovered curled up in 
that chair devouring Browning. She had thorough- 
bred stamped all over her so I made a bluff at being 
a book-agent, sold her a book off our desk and -then 
sneaked like a gentleman. 

Tom. What book was it ? 

Dick. Why that Greek Grammar you’re so fond 
of. 

Tom. I guess that’s where the photograph went 
then. How listen to my tale: I surprised the 
daintiest little house maid you ever set eyes on shov- 
ing the duster around here, who strung me along 
for awhile and I almost swallowed the bluff, till after 
she had gone I dug up this Paris creation — quite a 
nifty lid. 

Dick. That is what I thought when I found it on 
the desk a while ago and was trying to get accustomed 
to the fit when I thought I heard you coming upstairs 
and ducked behind the curtain: The next thing I 
knew upper cuts, side swipes and straight jabs were 
landing all over my anatomys, so I just stepped out to 
meet my antagonist face to face — (I pause for words) 

Tom. Keep on you duffer, I’m all ears. 

Dick. Gibson would have chucked all his models 
for a chance to copy the maid with the mitts that 
confronted me. She had just started in to explain 
matters when a frigid spinster hove in sight and my 
fair pugilist implored me to turn into a gas man or a 
plumber so Auntie wouldn’t throw a fit at seeing her 
unchaperoned, talking to a man. So I assumed the 


ROOMS TO LET 


17 


role of a humble janitor and departed, cheered on my 
way by smiles of gratitude. Methinks it was Dear 
Auntie who just crossed our room arrayed in — er 
— er, robes of white. 

Tom. The signals are mixed somewhere, I give it 
up. 

Dick. Anyway the joke seems to be on us — I’m 
going out for a box of candy in case that little house- 
maid calls for her hat. {exit Dick) 

Tom. Well this certainly gets my goat — I’ll have 
another look for that picture though, {searches 
desk) 

{Enter Betty.) 

Betty. Here is the original Tom. 

Tom. {turns quickly and starts towards her) 
Betty ! 

Betty, {steps behind chair) Hot yet Tom, re- 
member your promise. 

Tom. But I’ve waited so long already. 

Betty. You will have to be patient for six weeks 
more — your time is up then and I am so proud of 
you, now don’t spoil your good record. 

Tom. I have kept my promise Betty. 

Betty. I know it Tommy and when you got your 
sheepskin and made that dandy speech, I was there 
and saw it all and I did want to come right up on the 
platform to you before all those people. 

Tom. And you have been here a week and never 
let me know — ^how could you? 

Betty. I thought it was for the best Tom — now 
please don’t scold and in six short weeks we will take 
a certain canoe out on a certain river and then — I’ll 
listen. 

Tom. Six weeks 1 Holy Smokes, I’m going to get 
a job in a boiler factory where I will have to work 
fourteen hours a day and sleep the other ten till my 
time is up. Where are you going to be till then. 


ROOMS TO LET 


/8 


Betty. Right here — Madge and I have taken 
these rooms for the Summer School. Here she is 
now (enter Madge) — Madge, this is the man 1 
haven't told you about — Miss Wales, Mr. Warren. 
(shale e hands) 

Madge. Well you are a sly one — of course com 
gratulations are in order. 

Betty. Hot for six weeks yet. 

Tom. Six weeks, count them. — So you are not a 
housemaid after all. 

Madge. Be careful young man or Pll tell on you. 
By the way, do you know a book agent who wears 
white flannels and a winning smile, has worked his 
way through college, and can talk you deaf, dumb and 
blind. 

Tom. That is a pretty good description of my 
room mate, Dick Rush, with perhaps a few embellish- 
ments — ^here is the culprit now, let him answer the 
charge. 

[{Enter Dick.) 

Tom. Let me introduce you to Miss Breeze, the 
original of the lost photograph, and her friend Miss 
Wales. Ladies, Mr. Richard Wilton Rush — period. 

Dick, (acknowledges introductions) I think Miss 
— Breeze met me several times a little while ago, good 
stiff jolts they were too. 

Betty. It was so good of you to be the janitor so 
Auntie wouldn’t get excited. 

Madge. Yes, . and to be the book agent too, and 
sting poor me a half a dollar for a musty old Greek 
book. 

Dick. The money is cheerfully refunded madam, 
and here is a peace offering, (passes candy) 

Betty. You see we just found out that these were 
your rooms. 

Madge. I had a little guess of my own though 
(holds up photograph) who owns this. 


ROOMS TO LET 


19 


Tom. 1^11 take charge of that please. 

Dick. You might turn it over to me I think as 
long as you claim the real article. 

{Voice outside) Coming, Betty, coming. 

Betty. That's Aunt Matilda. You boys go out 
that way {points to rear) and then come in here. 
{front, exit Tom and Dick, rear) 

{Enter Aunt Matilda — front.) 

Aunt Matilda. Come girls, you must find an- 
other room, there are altogether too many young men 
around here. I was trying to take a nap in the bed- 
room and two of them were talking right in this room. 
I thought of what Gerald would say so I put some- 
thing over my head and ran right past them. I am 
terribly upset, {hnoch at door, enter Tom and Dick) 

Betty. Auntie, I want you to meet some friends 
of mine, Mr. Warren and Mr. Rush — my aunt Miss 
Judd. 

Aunt Matilda. I am very glad I am here to 
chaperone you, I heard one of these young men say 
that he has a girl who has waited four years for him, 
I remember his voice. 

Tom. I'll plead guilty. Miss Judd. 

Betty. And I am the girl. Auntie — How please 
don't be cross. 

Aunt Matilda, {embraces Betty) My dear 
child how romantic. It reminds me so much of my 
own case — Mr. Warren, I've waited so long for 
Gerald. 


{Enter Postman.) 

Jerey. a special delivery letter, Mr. Rush. 

Dick. All right, Jerry, give me the book. ( Jeeey 
advances toward them. Aunt Matilda throws arms 
around Jerey) 

Aunt Matilda. Oh, GERALD. 


20 ROOMS TO LET 

Jerry. I beg pardon, ma’am (stammering) what 
— wh at — what 

Betty. Why Auntie, what is the matter? 

Aunt Matilda. Oh, Gerald, don’t you know me ? 
I have waited so long, (loosens hold) 

Jerry. I guess you must have the wrong party, 
madam, case of mistaken identity. 

Aunt Matilda. How can you say so — ^and all 
these years I’ve never doubted you. Don’t you re- 
member that evening fifteen years ago — just after 
that big football game you won all yourself, when you 
told me you would make your fortune and come to 
me at the summer school. 

Jerry. By Jove, I do remember having a dandy 
supper with a girl after that game but it was only an 
initiation stunt. I remember now I had to ask some 
girl to marry me and it must have been you. I was 
trying for a fraternity but only lasted one football 
season at college so I took up civil service. I never 
thought you’d take it seriously ma’m. 

Aunt Matilda. A Judd always keeps a promise, 
and I have remembered you all these years. 

Jerry. I am very sorry, ma’am. 

Aunt Matilda. Do you wish me to release you 
from your promise. 

Jerry. Good Heavens, ma’am, can’t you under- 
stand, I have a wife and three children at home — I 
must be going, (exit hurriedly) 

Aunt Matilda, (drops into chair) And I have 
wasted all these years. 

Dick. You don’t look a day over thirty. 

Betty. And Deacon Perkins is still waiting, 
Auntie. 

Madge. Men are so fickle anyway. 

(Enter Mrs. Smythe — with pitcher and glasses on 
tray.) 

Mrs. Smythe. I’m very sorry to have got things* 


21 


t 

ROOMS TO LET 

muddled up so — but you see I thought the young 
gentlemen would be gone all afternoon — and I could 
get their things out while you were at supper. Sum- 
mer School opens to-morrow and I didn^t want to run 
any chances of not letting my rooms. 

Tom. That is all right Mrs. Smythe, I have dis- 
covered old acquaintances and we owe you nothing 
but gratitude. 

Betty. And we simply had to get settled to-day. 

Mrs. Smythe. Well, I am glad you are all 
satisfied ; my first husband used to say 

Dick, {quickly) Have a piece of candy Mrs. 
Smythe and canT I look after the tray, {passes 
glasses around) 

Mrs. Smythe. It is so warm I just mixed up a 
little cool drink, it is from a very old recipe which 
my grandmother on my fathers side 

"Aunt Matilda. How very thoughtful of you. 
{aside) And she has had TWO husbands. 

Madge. Let us each propose a toast. Ho need of 
asking you two what yours is. {points to Betty and 
Tom) 

Dick. Well, with your permission I will drink to 
a better acquaintance with the little housemaid, who 
wears Parisian hats, {hows to Madge) 

Madge. And I to the tongue-tied book agent. 

' Aunt Matilda. I suppose I may as well drink to 
the health of Deacon Perkins. 

Mrs. Smythe. And I’ll drink to my next ” bus. 
band, one with money enough so I will never havb 
ROOMS TO LET.” 


CURTAIH. 


The Return of Hi Jinks 


A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short, author of “The Varsitj 
Coach',” “The Touch-Down,” etc. 6 males, 8 females, Costumefl 
modern. One interior scene. 

This .comedy is founded upon and elaborated from a farce comedy 
in two acts written by J. H. Horta, and originally produced at Tuft’s 
College. _ _ , . . 

Hiram Poynter Jinks, a Junior in Hoosic College (Willie Collier 
type), and a young moving picture actress (Mary Pickford type), are 
the leading characters in this lively, modern farce. 

Thomas Hodge, a Senior, envious of the popularity of Jinks, w'ishes 
to think up a scheme to throw ridicule upon him during a visit of 
the Hoosic Glee Club to Jinks’s home town. Jinks has obligingly acted 
as a one-day substitute in a moving picture play, in which there is a 
fire scene, and this gives Hodge his cue. He sends what seems to 
be a bona fide account of Jink’s heroism at a Hoosic fire to Jink’s 
home paper. Instead of repudiating his laurels as expected. Jinks 
decides to take a flyer in fame, confirms the fake story, confesses to 
being a hero and is adoredi by all the girls, to the chagrin and dis- 
comfiture of Hodge. Of course, the truth comes out at last, but 
Jinks is not hurt thereby, and his romance with Mimi Mayflower 
comes to a successful termination. 

This is a great comedy for amateurs. It is full of funny situations 


Price, 30 Cents. 


and is sure to please. 



A most successful comedy-drama in four acts, by Marie Doran, 
author of “The New Co-Ed,” “Tempest and Sunshine,” “Dorothy’s 
Neighbors,” etc. 4 males, 8 females. One interior scene. Costumes 
modern. Plays 2 % hours. 

This play has a very interesting group of young people. June is 
an appealing little figure, an orphan living with her aunt. There are 
a number of delightful, life-like characters: the sorely tried likeable 
Mrs. Hopkins, the amusing, haughty Miss Banks of the glove depart- 
ment, the lively Tilly and Milly, who work in the store, and ambitious 
Snoozer; Mrs. Hopkins’s only son, who aspires to be President of the 
United States, but finds his real sphere is running the local trolley 
car. The play is simplicity itself in the telling of an every-day story, 
and the scenic requirements call for only one set, a room in the 
boarding house of Mrs. Hopkins, while an opportunity is afforded to 
introduce any number of extra characters. Musical numbers may be 
introduced, if desired. Price, 30 Cents. 


Tempest and Sunshine 


A comedy drama in four acts, by Marie Doran. 5 males and 3 
females. One exterior and three interior scenes. Plays about 2 hourSi 

Every school girl has revelled in the sweet simplicity and gentle- 
ness of the characters interwoven in the charms that Mary J. Holmes 
commands in her story of “Tempest and Sunshine.” We can strongly 
recommend this play as one of the best plays for high school pro- 
duction published in recent years. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Cataloeue Mailed Free on Renuesl 


The Touch-Down 

A comedy m four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, but 
any number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Cos- 
tumes modern. One interioT scene throughout the play. Time, 2^ 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals' with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
the^ humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 

“The Touch-Down” has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cents-, 

Hurry^ Hurry^ Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. S males, 4 females- 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twenty-cne, and 
married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative’s million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she ma}-- make her choice untram- 
meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father front 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialog:ue is sprightly. 
The character-s are natural and unaffected and the action moves with 
a snap such as should be expected from its title. Price,- 30 Cents- 

The Varsity Coach 

A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 6 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy’s room and 
the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, “Bob” Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst ox 
a “spread” in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunr 
who is putting him through college. Aunt Serena, “a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world/’ has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
has received “a pink card,” which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
college life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the “Prom” and the classroom, makes a story of 
dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
college life. There are several opportunities for the introduction of 
college songs and “stunts.” Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

Mew Md Explicit Oe^criotive Catalog Mailed Free qq ReouesJ 


JUST PUBLISHED 

Nothing But the Truth 


A Farcical Comedy in Three Acts 
By 

James Montgomery 
Cast of Characters 


j:^ob Bennett 
B. M. Ralston 
Clarence Van Dusen 
Bishop Doran 
Dick Donnelly 
Gwen 

Mrs. Ralston 

Ethel 

Mable 

Sable 

Martha 


SCENES 


ACT 1. A Broker’s Office 

ACT 2 . Parlor of a Country Home 

ACT 3. “ “ “ " 

TIME: The Present 

“Nothing’ But the Truth’* is built upon the simple idea 
of its hero speaking nothing but the absolute truth for a 
stated period. He bets a friend ten thousand dollars 
that he can do it, and boldly tackles truth to win the 
money. For a very short time the task is placidly easy, 
but Truth routs out old man Trouble and then things be- 
gin to happen. Trouble doesn’t seem very large and 
aggressive when he first pokes his nose into the noble 
resolve of our hero, but he grows rapidly and soon we 
see our dealer in truth disrupting the domestic relations 
of his partner. In fact, Trouble works overtime, and 
reputations that have been unblemished are smirched. 
Situations that are absurd and complications almost 
knotted, pile up, all credited to Truth, and the result of 
the wager to foster and cherish that great virtue from 
the lips of the man who has espoused the cause of truth 
■to win a wager. 

It is a novel idea and so well has it been worked out 
that an audience is kept in throes of laughter at the 
seemingly impossible task to untangle snarls into which 
our hero has involved all those he comes into contact 
with. It is a clean bright farce of well drawn character^ 
and was built for laughing purposes only. 

William Collier played “Nothing But the Truth” for a 
year at the Longacre Theatre, New York, and it has been 
on tour for over two seasons. 

After three years continuous success on the profess-' 
ional stage we are now offering “Nothing But the Truth”' 
for amateur production. It is one of the funniest and 
brightest farces ever written, and it is admirably suited 
to amateur production. 

Pjhce 6o Cents 


THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, d 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays hours. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for “Aunt Mary,” 
“Jack,” her lively nephew; “Lucinda,” a New England ancient njaid of all work; 
“Jack’s” three chums; the Girl “Jack” loves; “Joshua,” Aunt Mary’s hired 
man, etc. 

“Aunt Mary”^ was played by May Robson in New York and on tour for over 
two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever produced. We strongly 
recommend it. Price, 60 Cents 


MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

* A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
“The Tailor-Made Man.” 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. Cos- 
tumes mqdern. Plays 2 % hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for his initial comedy the complications arising from the 
endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude peopled by hyphenated 
names — a theme permitting innumerable complications, according to the spirit of 
the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. Fiske 
with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 

MRS. TEMPLE’S. TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and William 
Morris. 5 males. 4 females. One interior scene stands throughout the 
three acts. Costumes modern. Plays hours. 

“Mrs. Temple’s Telegram” is a sprightly farce in which there is an abund- 
- ance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any element of offence. As 
noticed by Sir Walter. Scott, “Oh, what a tangled web we weaye when first -we 
practice to deceive!” 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time the curtain 
rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and furious. A very exceptional 
farce. Price, 60 Cents, 


THE NEW CO-ED. 

A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of “Tempest and 
■ Sunshine,” etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number of 
boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One interior 
; and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one interior scene. 
L Costumes modern. Time,' about 2 hours. 

' ' The theme of tliis play is the coming of a new student to the college, her 
r. reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are three especially good girls’ parts, Letty, Madge and Estelle, but 
the others have plenty to do. “Punch” Doolittle and George Washington Watts, 
: a gentleman of color, are two particularly good comedy characters. We can 
fc strongly recommend “The New Co-Ed” to high schools and amateurs-. 

» ^ Price, 30 Cents. 

• (The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 

K SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

E New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 


DOROTHY’S NEIGHBORS. 


A brand new comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of “The 
New Co-Ed,” “Tempest and Sunshine,” and many other successful plays. 
4 males, 7 females. The scenes are extremely easy to arrange ; two plain 
interiors and one exterior, a garden, or, if necessary, the two interiors 
will answer. Costumes modern. Plays 2^ hours. 

The story is about vocational training, a subjetet now widely discussed; also, 
the distribution of large wealth. 

Back of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good logic and 
i sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the attention of the experi- 
enced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, particularly suited to high school 
production. Price, 30 Cents. 

MISS SOMEBODY ELSE. 

A modern play in four acts by Marion Short, author of “The Touch- 
down,” etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Costumes mod- 
ern. Plays 2 % hours. 

This delightful comedy has gripping dramatic moments, unusual .character 
types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern in theme and treat- 
ment. The story concerns the adventures of Constance Darcy, a multi-million- 
aire’s young daughter. Constance embarks on a trip to find a young man who 
had been in her father’s employ and had stolen a large sum of money. She 
almost succeeds, when suddenly all traces of the young man are lost.. At this 
point she meets some old friends who are living in almost want at\d, in order to 
assist them through motives benevolent, she determines to sink her own aristo- 
cratic personality in that of a refined but humble little Irish waitress with the 
family that are in want. She not only carries her scheme to success in assisting 
the family, but finds romance and much tense and lively adventure during the 
period of her incognito, aside from capturing the young man who had defrauded 
her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic situations and 
is highly recommended for amateur production. This is one of the best come- 
dies we have ever offered with a large number of female characters. . The dialogue 
is brfeht and the play is full of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in 
it. This is a great comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome 
story will please the parents and teach«-s. We strongly recommend it. 

Price, 30 Cents 

PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in three 
acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female char- 
acters. 

This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an admirable play 
for amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied types and is not too difficult 
while thoroughly pleasing. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

Kew and Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 





